


I'm sick of meaning, I just wanna hold you

by vanilla_villain37 (van1lla_v1lla1n)



Series: multichapter modern aus (reylo) [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anal Fingering, And Ben Would Like to Give Them to Her, Bisexual!Rey, Come Eating, Cum Play, Cunnilingus, Dildos, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, FreelanceWriter!Ben, GradStudent!Rey, Gratuitous Smut, Mutual Pining, Only the very lightest of angst, Past Rey/Kaydel, Pegging, Praise Kink, Protective!Ben, Rey Deserves Orgasms, Rey Needs A Hug, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, background stormpilot, demi!Ben, the butt stuff is only in the epilogue, what are tags how do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23190165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/van1lla_v1lla1n/pseuds/vanilla_villain37
Summary: Rey's tired of pining after Ben Solo, her hot, respectful mountain of a roommate, so she downloads Tinder and gets herself a date. She puts on her very best sparkly outfit, but as she's leaving, Ben suddenly seems very concerned about the fact that she doesn't expect her date to get her off. Ben's ignored her advances for months, though, so what is that about?
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: multichapter modern aus (reylo) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859416
Comments: 179
Kudos: 693
Collections: Comfort Gems 2020, Queerly Beloved Reylo Fics, Reylo Pegging Fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [here4thereylo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/here4thereylo/gifts), [Ksco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ksco/gifts).



> Dedicated to Here4theReylo and Ksco for their bounteous encouragement 🥰
> 
> UPDATE: Please scream with me about the fucking AMAZING MOODBOARD Ksco made!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 will carry The Smut 😉
> 
> NB: Rey does go on a date with someone else in this--see endnotes for more info on that, if you like.

It sounds like there’s a whole frat party in Rey’s room. A sort of _feminist_ frat party maybe, since the rappers are women and talking about clits instead of dicks, but Ben would still call this music something really close to frat rap. He’s not complaining about the switch from the “Call Me Maybe” woman or whoever the fuck is on the radio now, but it’s still hard to hear _It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia_ over the girl-power trap ballads.

Unfortunately, the TV is in their living room, right next to the door into her bedroom. He can’t escape the noise _and_ watch his show. In any case, this is how he spends his Friday nights.

Usually Rey is here too, watching some show with him until he feels like cooking and pretends to come up with a dinner idea on the fly when really he’s been thinking all day about what he could make for her tonight. And then he’ll cook while she does whatever she does—this is the one time a week when she allows him to do this for her, to do something for her without her help—and then they eat, and then she tries to do the dishes for him, but he never lets her do them by herself. Because he made the mess, because she is tired, because she _hates_ doing the dishes, of all chores, Ben knows.

But today she’s just been in her room. Playing the loud music, and rapping along to certain bits in her incongruously accented voice. She didn’t mention she had plans during their brief, sleepy interaction at the coffeepot before she left for work this morning, but she must have plans. Of some kind. Without him, he supposes.

Some song about being cocky as fuck comes on, a song he finds particularly hateable. Ben blows out a breath when the music stops suddenly and turns down the TV volume in the sudden quiet. From his peripheral vision he sees Rey’s door thrown open, but he tries to keep his attention on his show, which he can finally hear clearly without all the noise pollution.

But then Rey steps out, and she’s very . . . sparkly. This is not her standard Friday night yoga pants. Yes. Plans. He glances at her as she shuts her door. Short skirt. Tall shoes. _Fuck._

“You look nice. I’m guessing this means you aren’t eating here?” _Look at the TV, Ben. And don’t pout._ He hears that last bit in his mother’s voice.

“Thanks, no. I’m going out—I’ll probably eat there.” She pauses. _She curled her hair._ “Do you think this outfit is too much?”

“Going out with that annoying coworker you’re always complaining about?” He’s certain he sounds not at all jealous.

“Hux? Fuck no. Just some dude from Tinder.”

“It’s definitely not too much.” He’s looking at her now—she asked him to. _No way she can bike in that skirt though._ “Where are you going? Do you need a ride?”

“No, he’s picking me up in like two minutes. Just to The Library. This was Poe’s idea, for the record. He said, and I quote, ‘Your vagina is not going to fuck itself, Rey.’” She’s started toward the apartment door now from where she’d paused just outside her room, crossing in front of the TV.

Ben tries to tamp down the jealousy he feels rising in his gut and pastes on a smirk. Poe’s philosophy is that casual sex can alleviate any type of stress. Ben doesn’t quite understand how strangers can fit into any type of stress-relief situation—maybe the stress of trying to impress someone new distracts you briefly from bigger anxieties, though. “Well, when you come back I hope you’re just blissed out on orgasms. Poe will be thrilled to know his stress-relief strategy finally worked for someone else.”

Rey rolls her eyes and laughs. “Fat chance,” she says. She’s rooting through her tiny purse, which she calls, quaintly, a _wristlet_ , trying to make room for her phone.

Ben pauses the show, freezing Charlie Day in a confused grin. “What does that mean?”

“You really think Cameron No-Last-Name from Tinder is going to get me off?”

Ben stands and gets her jacket from the hook, hands it to her. It’s a big rain jacket and it doesn’t really do her outfit justice, but it’s the one she always wears. And he takes small pleasure in knowing her jacket makes her look slightly less—

“Well, this one fucking better.” If he has to endure a night at the apartment by himself knowing she’s out with someone else looking like _this_ , then _she_ should at least get something out of it.

“Good luck with that,” she says. She steps toward the door to leave, but he’s stepping with her, right behind her. As she reaches for the doorknob, he crowds her, and she turns, her back against the door.

“What are you going to do if he doesn’t get you off before he fucks you, Rey?” He needs to stop talking about her orgasms. He knows that. But he can’t make himself shut up.

“What?”

“How many orgasms do you deserve, Rey?” _As many per day as she wants, as many per day as she can give him._

“I don’t—”

“How many?” He knows he’s looming over her now, forcing her to tilt her head back to look him in the eye.

“I don’t think I _deserve_ any—”

“No. More than one. Multiple. You deserve that. And if some Tinder asshole can’t manage that then he doesn’t deserve to fuck you.”

Rey just looks up at him, face shifting from furrowed brow to wide eyes. She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, but no words come out. She’s just making vaguely shocked little vowel sounds.

“How many orgasms, Rey? Say it.” Ben breathes out through his nose, his jaw tightening a little. He needs her to get it; he needs himself to chill out.

“More than one. I get it, I get it.” She’s holding her hands out, palms down, like she’s trying to placate him, like she might touch his chest, but he’s not mad.

He bends his knees so he can get down to her eye level. Not as far down as he’d normally need to, given the height of her shoes. He looks back and forth between her eyes, assessing if she _does_ get it, or if she’s just trying to get him to shut up. He holds her gaze. “Good girl.”

Then he reaches down and fits the zipper of her jacket together. Her mouth is open again, and she exhales slowly, her breath shaking a little. Did he scare her? He forgets how big he is, how much bigger than her. She tucks her hair behind her ear, watching his hands work the zipper up to her chest. As she drops her hand, so close to grazing against his chest, he steps back. He didn’t mean to get so far into her space.

“Have fun, sweetheart,” he says, teasing her a little, but really just mocking himself. “Text me if you need a ride.”

***

A little more than an hour later, Ben’s phone goes off. It’s the second time it’s gone off, actually—the first time only minutes after Rey left, asking him to unplug her curling iron, and _sorry it’s so messy in there._ He went through her room into her bathroom, thinking, _Don’t look at anything, don’t look, don’t be a creep_ , but he looked a little bit. He’s been in there before, a few times, to unplug her curling iron after she left for an interview or to retrieve a sweater she needed him to drop by work during the day—he works from home, so sometimes he takes his laptop to the diner for a few hours during her shift. Going to coffee-serving establishments is a normal thing normal freelancers do, and it only makes sense he would do it when someone he knows is working.

Today there was the same pile of clothes next to her unmade bed—maybe even a bigger pile, impossibly—the same tangle of shoes tumbling from the floor of the closet, engineering papers strewn across the card table “desk” she somehow works at. In the bathroom he unplugged her curling iron and tried not to look at himself in the mirror, tried not to notice the pile of soft small fabric—dark green lace and a few little bows and he was _not_ looking. Resisted the urge to sweep up and throw away the ripped-off tags and plastic fasteners strewn across the counter next to that pile. And then he got the fuck out of there and shut her door firmly behind him.

He’d reheated some leftovers for dinner and was back on the couch, working on his third episode of _It’s Always Sunny_ for the night _._

It’s Rey again: "fuck. can you pick me up"

Ben thinks, _Did something happen?_ He thinks, _Are you okay?_ But he just types, “on my way.” On his way out the door he thinks he should have asked if she meant right this minute. But better just to be there if she _does_ mean right this minute.

***

She really hadn’t wanted to text Ben--it was like admitting defeat. She could walk home in these shoes, but she really didn’t want to. And she didn’t want her date to see her walking, to follow her in his car. She didn’t know if he was the type to do that, but she didn’t want to risk it. He already knew where she lived, which was bad enough—it was stupid to let him pick her up, she saw that now. But that was what people always did in TV shows, and she’d been so busy and stressed that she hadn’t even thought twice about it. Asinine.

Ben would be here in five minutes—he had texted her back so fast. She could stand her asshole of a date for five more minutes. What kind of person invites college buddies into a first date? A person named _Cameron_ , apparently. Fifteen minutes in, a group of rowdy bros had rolled up to their table, clearly buzzed already, baseball hats backwards, polos _slightly_ too unbuttoned, and started roughhousing with her date, all of them punching each other’s shoulders and thumping each other’s backs. Of course he’d invited them to sit with the two of them—then asked her, after they’d all gone to get drinks, “That’s okay with you, right?” It wasn’t, but it was too late to say that.

She looks up at Cameron now and gives him a smile that’s a centimeter away from a grimace, wiggles her eyebrows at him like _Yeah, what a great time. This is all so fun!!_

She’s totally checked out now, but none of the guys are trying to engage with her anyway. She was surprised Ben hadn’t responded with anything smug when she texted him. At least she was proving herself right about her date not being a real catch. But she was also _kind of_ doing exactly what Ben wanted, which was bailing on the guy for not being a real catch. Either way, no orgasms for her. _Thanks anyway, Poe._

It’s been a shitty few years for her, relationship-wise, and this is just the moldy cherry on top. It’s been more than a year since the shit with Kaydel, who’d been her friend, who’d fucked around with her for a few months and then gotten what she called an “actual girlfriend,” leaving Rey to sort out the fact that maybe she hadn’t thought of Kaydel as just a friend that whole time—and leaving Rey without the woman who had, maybe, been her closest friend to help her do that sorting out. Rey had been upset over that for months afterward.

And then she’d needed to move, and Poe had mentioned Ben was looking for a roommate. So she’d gone ahead with that, thinking it’d be fine, knowing, probably, it wouldn’t be. She’d known Ben for a few years; sometimes he showed up at the parties at Poe and Finn’s apartment. She’d noticed him sitting quietly, had tried to draw him out a bit sometimes. Poe wasn’t great at making sure people felt included. But he’d been so aloof she quit trying. Goddamn hot quiet guys. But at least that meant it’d be easy to be his roommate, she thought.

But it turned out that Ben was really nice in one-on-one situations. Still quiet, but _comfortable_. He was so respectful of her space and her stuff, even when she left it lying all over the apartment. And seeing him in the comfy clothes he wore at home was . . . something. He was always wearing these thin, soft shirts, and it was fucking torture, seeing his muscular chest through them, or his collarbone, when the collar was a little stretched out. Early on she’d tried sitting slightly closer to him on the couch, teasing him a little more flirtily, complimenting him on his cooking and his clothes, when he put on something nice to go out in. But even though he seemed comfortable with her, he never seemed really to warm up that much. And since she couldn’t afford to move somewhere else, didn’t exactly have people just volunteering to be her roommate to split rent, she didn’t want to push it. So this was her utterly failed attempt to find someone else to distract her from the hot, warm, _respectful_ mountain she had to see every fucking day.

One minute. She smiles again at her date and stands up, walking over to the far side of the bar behind him and clutching her wristlet on the bartop. She waves at the bartender.

“I’d like to pay for part of that tab, please,” she says, nodding over at the loudest table in the bar. “I just had one of the gin and tonics.”

The bartender looks over at the rowdy group, back at her. Asks if she’s alright.

“Fine, yeah. I don’t think he’ll notice I’ve left anyway—I just don’t want to make a big deal out of it.” She roots through her wallet, finds five one-dollar bills. “Will this do it?”

“Keep it,” he tells her, pushing her hand back across the bar. “We’ll let him get it.”

She wants to argue, but she feels her phone vibrate, which means Ben is probably waiting outside. She leaves two dollars on the bar anyway, guessing Cameron won’t leave a tip, or at least not a very good one.

She walks outside without looking back, her jacket over her arm. Ben’s shiny car idles in front of the door, and she opens the door and throws herself in, tossing her little wallet on the floor. He looks at her for a second, like he’s checking for obvious injuries, and puts the car back in drive.

“Everything okay?” he asks, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Yeah, nothing happened. Just . . . not fun.”

Ben doesn’t say anything, just drives. Rey stares out the windshield. She can hear Ben breathing, remembers the deep breaths he took when he’d cornered her by the door earlier, so close she could smell him, his deodorant. _The fuck was that about?_ She doesn’t really think she wants to explain what happened on her disaster of a date, but then she’s talking anyway.

“Dude just met up with a bunch of his college buddies like fifteen minutes in. Who does that? None of them even tried to talk to me. They were just talking about politics and telling hookup stories and I just had to sit there trying to look like I was having fun. My date would just look over at me every few minutes and tell me to smile. Jesus Christ.” She yanks the lever to put her seat back and throws her jacket over her face, fake sobbing. “Fuck Poe and his stupid strategy.” She stretches her legs out. _Wish I could get these fucking shoes off._

“Did you eat anything?”

“No.”

“Want me to stop somewhere?”

“No.” She’s quiet for a minute, trying to pout. She really wouldn’t feel like eating, but . . . “Is there any of your ramen left?” He makes very good ramen; he had made some just yesterday.

She thinks she hears Ben laugh under his breath. “There is.” And then the car stops. Ben waits.

“You coming in? Or you need a minute?”

She groans and drags the jacket off her head, setting Ben’s fancy seat back up. He makes it up the stairs first to unlock the door, and soon she’s sprawled on the couch with reheated ramen, in the middle of the _Always Sunny_ episode Ben had paused to come get her. It’s very difficult not to splash broth all over her nicest outfit, but she manages, and it doesn’t really matter at this point anyway.

Ben pauses the show again when she gets up to wash her bowl.

“You can leave it on,” she says. “I’m just going to change and I’ll be back in.”

He’s followed her into the kitchen. “You got all dressed up though.”

She laughs, at herself mostly. “I’m not going to just sit around in this getup.” She feels ridiculous now, and sequins aren’t exactly good lounging material.

“You could. Sit around in that. Or we could . . . not sit around, if you want.”

Rey puts her bowl and spoon in the drying rack and looks over at him, a little confused. He’s just leaning on the counter next to the sink, staring at the cabinets on the other side.

“You’re in the middle of a show. It’s a Friday,” she says. Ben doesn’t go out, she doesn’t usually go out herself, and she really doesn’t want to go out right now, when she _just_ got back from a _supremely_ shitty going-out experience.

“We could”—Ben breathes in sharply, _what is happening_ —“talk about the orgasms you’re owed.”

“ _Owed?_ Didn’t we decide that I’m not _owed_. . .” But she forgets what she was saying, because she feels Ben’s gaze slide over to her now, feels him _looking_ at her, suddenly notices that he’s standing right next to her. She looks up at his face, still not finding anything to say, still not remembering what she meant to say in the first place. She’s certain she was about to make a very good counterargument. To something.

“Owed,” she says finally. _Jesus, is that all you can think of?_

But Ben just keeps looking down at her and says, “Yes.” His mouth is doing that thing it does when it seems like he has a lot to say but isn’t sure how or whether he should say it. His hands have not moved from where he set them next to his hips on the counter.

 _Say something, Rey._ Orgasms are nice, yes. But she’s not owed them. And this is _Ben_. _Ben_ is, what, propositioning her? _Ben_ , who barely so much as _glances_ away from her face, even when she wanders out of her room in her pajamas, without a bra, without _pants_? Was this a guilt thing? Her mind is racing and her mouth still can’t figure out how to respond to him, but she has to say something.

“You . . .” _Shit._ “You want to—would—you would—Ben, no. You don’t want this. You don’t. Thank you, but no. And I can’t—I can’t keep things casual with friends. I . . . established that, with Kaydel.” It had come up, once, when Ben asked why Kaydel didn't come with her to Poe's parties anymore.

Ben looks back over at the cabinets across from them. “You wouldn’t have to. If you didn’t want to. It wouldn’t be . . . like that,” he says.

“Have to what? And you can’t know that.”

“I can. I do.” He is looking at her again, so earnestly. “I know how it would be for my part. And you _wouldn’t_ have to—if you didn’t want to. Keep things casual.”

And Rey just gapes at him, like an idiot. Ben usually speaks so clearly, but she just can’t figure out what he’s trying to say right now.

“Rey, I’ve been half in love with you for months. I know I’m terrible at hiding it. You don’t have to keep acting like you don’t know.”

“What? But I _didn’t_ know.”

He looks almost angry now, angry with himself. He has never been angry with her, as far as she knows. His eyebrows are so furrowed, and he’s tilted his head back, looking ahead, up at the top cabinets she can’t reach.

She steps in front of him, standing over his legs, which are stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle, so she can get up close to his face. And finally words are coming back to her.

She says, “Why the hell did you let me go on that date? What the fuck, Ben. You were just going to sit around here at home and let me go out and receive subpar, if any, orgasms? When I had someone better, someone I’ve liked for _months_ , just _waiting around_ to do that for me? After all that talk about what I deserve.”

Ben looks absolutely chastised, but as she lets a bit of a smile onto her face he seems to read further into what she’s saying. He cocks his chin to the side, looking hopeful and also like he desperately wants to understand what she means.

Rey can’t bear to not be touching him anymore, and she also can’t handle the way he’s looking at her so intently. She puts her arms around his waist and leans against him, her chest against his, her chin on his shoulder.

“I really had no idea,” she says. “I would also . . . not want to keep things casual. With you. I already can’t.” She stands there quiet for a minute, feeling his chest move against hers as he takes big breaths, feeling his hands finally land on her back, his warmth surrounding her.

She turns her face into his neck as she pulls back to stand back up on her own. Now she looks at his face, raising her hands to hover at his neck, over his jaw. His hands are still on her back, and she feels them pressing against her now to pull her back to him.

He kisses her, so softly, just pressing his mouth to hers. She feels the fullness of his lips as he inhales deeply, and as he exhales he opens his mouth just enough to slide his lower lip over hers, dragging it up so that she can feel the silkiness of his mouth.

Rey relaxes into him, lowering her shoulders and letting out tension she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Ben kissed her, _is_ kissing her. This is not how she thought tonight would go, but it’s definitely the best way it could have gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, spoilers for the concerned: Rey does go on a date with someone Not Ben, but it's shitty (the dude is rude and kind of sexist, but nothing violent or truly abusive happens), and she leaves early. There's also brief mention of her former FWB relationship with Kaydel, but we don't see them interact at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rise. The court of smut is now in session.
> 
> [Tooka](https://twitter.com/MizTooka) made us some beautiful arts based on the kitchen scene as a commission for a donation I made to a local bail fund in support of Black Lives Matter protests this June!

Rey has imagined kissing Ben many times. But she did not imagine that this is how it would go. He is so big, and he can be so intense, sometimes, the way he was earlier when he basically cornered her by the door—she’d thought he would fucking devour her if she ever kissed him. She’s wanted to devour _him._

She’d thought that if she were ever to kiss Ben, it would probably be on a Friday night here in the kitchen, when he stands next to her in the cramped space, drying the dishes he cooked their dinner with as she washes. The way he moves around her while they’re doing that chore she hates so much drives her up the wall. He lets himself be close to her, moving beside and behind her to put plates and bowls away, and she can feel the warmth radiating from his torso and smell that _Ben_ scent of his deodorant mixed with just the faintest bit of sweat—he always runs so hot.

It is almost unbearable, trying to keep herself from touching him, yet she draws the washing out as long as she can. She’d thought that someday soon she wouldn’t be able to take it anymore, that she’d just fucking climb him, her hands dripping dishwater down his shirt as she clung to him. She’d thought they would break dishes.

They _are_ in the kitchen now—she’d gotten that part right— they’ve been just standing here kissing each other for god knows how long. She can’t remember enjoying a first kiss with someone this much—he doesn’t go for the tongue too fast, he doesn’t jab it into her mouth like he’s trying to fuck her with it, he doesn’t tense up his lips in that fishy way some people do. He kisses her so softly, like he’s caressing her mouth with his, opening just so slightly and sliding his full lips over hers and licking her so lightly with the tip of his tongue. He is _savoring_ her.

The world is dead silent, or Rey thinks it is; she’s so enveloped in the sound of Ben’s deep breaths, her own shaky exhales, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

She has this feeling that she’s forgotten something—her counterargument, from earlier. Ben’s conviction that she _deserves_ something, which is still so baffling to her.

She pulls back a bit, and says, “Ben, we were talking about . . .”

“About what?” His response is barely more than a mumble, his mouth already chasing back to hers. He holds her against his chest and nuzzles his nose into her cheek.

And then he stops, and he is smiling. His mouth is so red already, his hair all askew, and Rey just wants to lie on the floor as she looks at him—she _would_ lie on the floor, if he’d come with her.

“Ah,” he says. “You’d like your orgasms after all, hmm?” He’s got this bastard smirk on his face. He gets his feet under him, stands up straighter from where he’d been leaning against the counter. She has to take a step back, but his hands are already on her hips, turning her around and pulling her back against him. Her back is molded into his chest, her ass pressed into the hardness in his jeans. He wraps his arms around her waist, breathes into her neck. She’d like to retort, she really would, but more than that she wants to know what he’s going to do now, what he’s going to do _to her._

“Tell me,” he says.

“Maybe I would like one or two,” she says, “if you’re offering.” He bites lightly at her neck and chuckles when she gasps.

“I think you can manage more than one or two.” He’s running the tip of his nose up and down the side of her neck now, and his hands are rubbing warmth over her belly, her hips, her ribcage, rumpling the fabric and catching a bit on the sequins of her skirt. He runs his hands down her sides, bending her over a bit so that he can reach her legs, which are bare under her skirt—the first hot skim of his hands on her skin.

He rubs down the outside of her thighs, brings his hands around the front, above her knees, and forces her legs a bit apart as he pulls his hands back up the soft skin of her inner thighs. She wants him to keep going, _up, farther, please_ , but she is too proud to beg him yet.

Because of that pride she can’t complain when he skims his hands back up over her skirt, though she wants to. Instead she just arches her back, presses her ass harder against him, and hears his breath catch a little. He palms her breasts through her thin shirt and groans softly when he feels her nipples stiffen in his hands, separated from him only by that single layer of soft material stretched tight.

Ben speaks with his mouth right against her face, his breath hot on her ear, on her cheek: “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this, Rey? I guess you don’t. When Poe brought you over to see the other room, all I could think of was what you would look like coming out of there in your pajamas in the morning, warm and sleepy and all rumpled up from your bed. I thought of fucking you against this counter before you even moved in, back when I used to see you at his parties. I’ve thought of fucking you in this kitchen every time you steal a bite of the food I’m cooking for you when you think I’m not looking. I’ve thought of taking you over my knee at the table for being such a brat, asking to ‘borrow’ a single fucking egg or a few fucking _ounces_ of cereal.”

His hands are rougher now, continuing their slow circle from her tits to her knees and up between her thighs. He’s pushed up her skirt a little, started to pull her shirt out from where it’s tucked in. She’s breathing harder now; she can’t believe a word of what he’s saying. She can’t imagine _not_ promising to pay him back when she borrows his food. She hates doing it in the first place. But she can’t think of a single way to tell him that right now.

When his hands come back down to her legs and start their way back up, she presses her whole body hard back against him and wraps a foot back around one of his calves, trying to open herself to him.

“Please touch me, Ben. Goddammit,” she says. She is not above begging now.

His hands slow, the left one coming up across her body to bar across her chest, his hand spanning her sternum to her shoulder. He lifts his right hand just barely from her leg, trails the tips of his fingers up her inner thigh to toy with the hem of her skirt.

“ _Please_ ,” she says, and with maybe anyone else she would be embarrassed by how breathless her voice sounds. Ben unzips the side of her skirt and rucks it up to her waist, then kneads at the uppermost part of her inner thigh, his hand just barely grazing against her underwear. She whimpers, placing her foot back on the ground for balance, and he trails his index finger over her vulva.

“What do I deserve, Rey?” His deep voice is low in her ear, just barely above a whisper.

“Jesus, Ben, can we not right now?” He is teasing her, and she needs broken dishes, she needs to devour him. She struggles against him, but his left arm is holding her tight to his chest, such a stark contrast to the way his right hand plays softly between her legs.

“Now seems like a good time to me,” he says. If she could just get him to _touch_ her instead of teasing her like this—“Do I deserve to fuck you?”

“I just don’t think—”

“Have I made you come yet? No. So the answer is no, I _don’t_ deserve to fuck you—not yet. That’s my rule, for you.”

“ _Ben._ This is _torture_.” He’s rubbing her chest almost soothingly, pausing occasionally to tweak her nipple; lower, he alternates between tracing her vulva much too softly over her underwear and squeezing hard at her upper thigh.

“I’ll fix it, sweetheart, don’t worry. I just need you to know some things. I see how hard you work, Rey. You are _good_. You are so smart, so determined.” He pauses to kiss the skin behind her ear, bites softly at the shell of it. “You deserve to eat food you like. You _deserve_ people to be kind to you, to take care of you when you need it. And you _do_ need it sometimes, and you don’t need to be ashamed of it. And you deserve to enjoy sex just as much as whoever’s fucking you." He pauses, his forearm tightening over her chest. "Tell me, Rey.”

_Fuck_ , she does not want to cry right now. Thank god he saves her from that too—the second she whispers, “I deserve it,” he slips a finger beneath her underwear and traces it into her warmth. She is so wet for him already, and she knows he knows it, can tell by the soft sounds he is making that he knows it, but he doesn’t say it. This seems a small mercy to her, when he has told her so many things already that she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear about herself.

He holds her firm against his torso as he takes his hand out from her underwear, like he knows she will protest. But he just takes a moment to grasp the elastic of them and pull them down; she hates them stuck around her legs and wiggles as much as he’ll let her so they’ll fall to the floor, taking those few seconds to mourn that he won’t see them on her, that brand new pair. She thinks, _Next time—_ but the thought is cut off as he presses one thick finger along her slit, the base of it against her clit, the tip of it dipping into her cunt. He drags that fingertip up slowly to circle her clit and teases around it for a few breaths, spreading her own wetness there.

And then back down—he slides his finger through the slick, smooth center of her labia and hooks the first knuckle into her cunt, pressing into her front wall in a way that makes her head fall back against his shoulder. She’s pitching forward now, Ben almost holding her up with his arm across her chest and his thighs under hers.

She reaches an arm out in front of her as he grinds his palm against her clit, his finger into that soft spot behind her pubic bone. She’s almost flailing for something to hold onto, but there’s literally nothing in reach except Ben. So she settles for reaching behind her to hold onto his neck, his head. Her knees are failing her; she is basically using Ben as a chair at this point, and she really isn’t sure how he’s still standing.

He brings his finger back up to her clit and rubs up and over it, firmly and slowly, again and again—she is needy and breathless but he seems not at all hurried. As he begins to circle her clit, a little faster now, she can feel her cunt clenching and wishes he wasn’t having to hold her up so she could have his other fingers inside her.

“Please, Ben— _fuck_. I need, just, more— _please_.” He listens, _thank god, fucking finally_ , and dips his finger back into her, then begins to move it across her clit in earnest. Her whole body is trembling, her upper body straining forward and her knees giving out a little more with each second, and her cunt clenches over and over where she wants his fingers, his dick—she can feel it against her ass and god she wants it.

His voice rumbles low in her ear: “Let go, Rey. Come for me,” and she does, _fuck_ she does, panting, her fingers pulling his hair, scrambling against his neck. He holds her through it, bending over with her and keeping his chest against her back. As she comes down, he slows his fingers to soothe her sensitive clit, her swollen labia, kissing her neck and the side of her face.

Once she’s caught her breath and remembered where she is, she turns around in Ben’s arms and kisses him hard. Now she does it as fiercely as she wants to, and she knows she’s mashing his lips against her teeth a little too often, biting him a little too hard, but she can’t help it.

Finally he pulls back, his hands on her shoulders, and whispers her name—just “Rey, Rey,” like he’s reminding himself who she is, like he’s trying to bring her back from that fierceness. Rey takes deep breaths and looks up into his face, and she almost can’t take how earnestly he is looking at her.

“That was one,” he says.

“Not bad for a first attempt.”

“Again,” he says, “I think you can manage more than that.” That bastard smirk is back.

“We’ll see if _you_ can manage more than that,” she says, but she’s smiling.

He puts his hands on her waist, kisses her once, almost chastely, and spins her around again, guiding her out of the kitchen in front of him. He pauses for a minute in the living room, then with gentle pressure on her hip steers her right, toward his bedroom.

He stops her beside his bed, stilling his hands at her waist, and then with a breath he pulls her shirt up and over her head. Rey raises her arms to help him, fights the urge to bring her hands down to her chest once she’s half-naked in the room. It doesn’t take much fight for her—Ben’s hands are covering her breasts as soon as he’s tossed her shirt to the floor, his chin hooked over her shoulder so he can look down at her as he plays with them. She turns her face to nuzzle into his hair and clasps her hands over his massive ones as he pinches her nipples.

Then her hands float in the air in front of her as he moves his own down to her skirt, still bunched up around her waist. “Let’s get this off you,” he says, pulling it back down over her hips. He takes it as she steps out of it and folds it in half to place it on his nightstand, Rey turning to watch him. It’s like he knows that’s her nicest skirt, _knows_ the way she worries about the sequins catching on things and falling off.

She looks up at him and tugs at the hem of his soft t-shirt, lifting it up to his shoulders; he takes over from there to pull it over his head—she can’t reach far enough to get it off for him. And while he’s tangled up in it, she runs her hands over his chest, presses her mouth and her tits against his warm skin, breathing him in. He puts his arms around her and stands with his chin on her head, holding her close to him as she rubs up his spine, over his shoulder blades.

Ben’s belt buckle presses into her belly, his erection straining at his fly below it. But as Rey brings her hands back around to rub against it, he takes her wrists in his hands and walks her back toward the bed until the mattress behind her knees forces her to sit. He pulls her hands above her head to kiss each of them and gently presses back so she’ll lie down, her legs hanging off the side of the bed.

Ben kneels in front of her, runs his hands from her ankles to grasp behind her knees, and gently pulls her to the edge of the bed. Rey has left her arms above her head, and she tilts her head back to look at her hands, breathless, wanting and not wanting to see what he’s doing. Her breath catches when she feels his hot breath on her cunt, his mouth and nose following it to nuzzle against her a moment later. He breathes heavily against her as he presses open-mouthed kisses to her labia, moving up to her clit, sucking lightly at her inner lips as he goes.

When he presses a hand above her pubic bone and starts to lick slowly, heavily, at her clit, Rey’s back arches hard, her shoulders and the crown of her head pressing into Ben’s gray quilt. His left hand grasps at the soft spot at the top of her inner thigh, his thumb rubbing over and over just beside her cunt. Her hands go to her face as he begins to lick her fast, punctuating his strokes with little suckles on her clit.

With his right hand he pinches lightly at the skin above her clit, exposing more of her to his mouth, and the fingers at her thigh edge closer and closer to her cunt. She’s come once already with her cunt empty, and she _wants_ him there—she starts to whimper with the hint that he might press one of those long, thick fingers into her as he works her up again. Her whimpers morph into a full, quiet moan when he _does_ press into her, his fingertip tracing soft pressure up her front wall.

She can feel herself losing control as he begins to fuck that finger into her in earnest, pressing harder by degrees inside her, against that soft spot behind her clit, and flicking his tongue against her faster. The hand on her belly moves to hold her hip down, to keep her from squirming out of his reach.

And he has her at the edge again, this time with her cunt full of his thick finger—though not as full as she imagines she’ll be with his cock. She comes with a gasp, her cunt clenching down on his finger and one leg thrown over his shoulder to press his mouth hard against her clit. She stares at the ceiling, mouth hanging open, as he trails his finger from inside her and up lightly around her clit.

Then, before she really knows what she’s doing, she’s sitting up and pulling his face to hers to kiss him. She slides off the bed in her haste to get close to him, not really thinking about where she’ll put her legs, and ends up sprawling both of them across the floor in a fumble of knees and elbows. Ben laughs as he kisses her back, and she bites his lower lip, tasting herself on his mouth.

Ben wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, brushes the corner of her lip with his thumb. “Off,” he says. “Not done yet.” Rey rolls to her back as he breaks out from beneath her to stand up, gazing up at him as he unfastens his belt, pulls off his jeans and boxers together, and throws a pillow to the floor. He sits on the bed with his back against the headboard, his legs out in front of him.

“Here,” he says, holding his arms out to her, and Rey wonders how a man this massive— _and with one thick erection_ , she notes—can look as sweet as a kid asking for a stuffed animal. She grins at him as she gets up off the floor, because if he is a kid at the fair, looking like this, then she is the prize, and she _feels_ that in her chest. She straddles his lap and leans in to kiss him.

“Oh,” he says, “ . . . I have—do you want me to get—”

She cuts him off. “No, unless you want to. You know it’s been forever for me, since before I last went to the doctor, and I have an IUD, and—”

“Okay,” he says, nodding slightly. “Okay. Without, then.”

He grasps her hips, brings them forward to slide her cunt over the head of his dick. “I want you to make yourself come on my cock.” He’s looking her full in the face when he says it, and she feels a bit flustered, even though he’s just had his whole face in her cunt.

“I thought this was _your_ challenge,” she says, “getting me to come.” In spite of her retort, she’s the one moving over him now, her hands on his shoulders as she teases the head of him through her labia, still slick from her orgasms and his mouth.

He leans his head back against the headboard, his eyes closed, for a minute, enjoying her and letting himself get a little breathless with her teasing. When she edges him close to her cunt, feels him just catch at her entrance, his hips thrust up to chase her, his hands tightening at her hips. He groans in frustration when she pulls away, smirking at him, but he seems to come back to himself, to what he wanted to say: “Nope. It’s for you. Just you. And I want you to fuck yourself on me, however you want to.”

Rey takes his face in her hands and whispers _Okay_ against his mouth. She slides her mouth over his, lets the tip of her tongue touch his bottom lip, as she cants her hips to bring him back to her cunt. She keeps her mouth against his as she lowers herself onto him, taking his deep breaths for herself. _This_ is the deep fullness she’s been missing. His hands are all over her, caressing her spine and her ribcage and her breasts as she catches her breath, full of him, her clit flush against his belly and her hands in his hair.

They inhale almost together when she begins to slide slowly back up, missing the warmth against her clit but luxuriating in his slick hardness inside her. She pauses at the top, just barely holding him inside, and grasps his face to her chest, breathing into his hair. He mouths softly at her breast as she lowers herself back down, then moves to nibble at her neck.

She fucks him slow and steady now, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist—but she can tell when she reaches a pace he likes, an angle that’s good for him, by his soft groans, the way his fingers dig into her back, the way his teeth catch a little rougher at her shoulder, her neck. She tilts her hips so that her clit rubs against him, the head of his dick pressing against that perfect spot inside her when she takes him all the way in.

She’d thought she wanted to be devoured, but this slow savoring is maybe what she needed. She’s only rarely had sex in this position and she’s not sure how she would move much faster than she is, but she finds that the way she’s able to grind herself against him and hit the perfect angles over and over is bringing her up to another orgasm already. The way she’s able to pleasure herself just how she wants but do it so intimately with Ben—with _Ben_ —almost _using_ his body but in a way that makes him feel good too, is so novel to her, and she realizes it’s exactly the experience he wanted her to have.

Realizing this, she leans down to catch his mouth in a kiss. He takes her bottom lip in his teeth and growls as she begins to fuck herself on him a little harder, just a little faster. When he lets it go she buries her face in his neck, holding onto his shoulders for leverage as she works herself up.

He’s helping her just a little now, holding her tightly and thrusting his hips up into her when she bottoms out. The extra pressure is exactly what she needs, and she bites the thick muscle above his shoulder as she grinds herself down hard against him. And _there_ is that fullness she’s needed so badly, coupled with the rough graze of his skin on her clit—and she is gasping into his neck and clenching down on him and _oh god_ she is coming _again_ but it is _so different_ this time _—_

And suddenly Ben’s hands are gripping tightly at her ass and he is _fucking_ her.

He is rough with her now, his groans hitting deep in her ear, and Rey can only hold onto him as he fucks the breath out of her. Her nails dig into his back, his shoulders, and she’s worried she’ll break the skin but then his hips lift hard and stutter under her—his dick unbelievably deep inside her now—and he pushes her off him so he can fist his cock as he comes all over his belly. His other arm clutches her to his chest, his breath coming ragged.

Rey rests her forehead on his shoulder and darts out her tongue to taste the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s breathing so hard, his skin so hot—she sits up to let him cool off a bit, her hands braced on his chest. She stares down at the splashes of cum on his belly. With Ben’s eyes still closed, she feels a little reckless, and she lifts her hips and smears her swollen vulva through his cum.

Ben hums softly and opens his eyes, his eyebrows raised.

“Doesn’t that kind of negate me pulling out?”

“I didn’t ask you to pull out.”

He closes his eyes again, thumps his head back against the headboard. “ _Fuck._ ”

Rey kisses his forehead, stands up to get a washcloth from his bathroom.

When she comes back, he asks, “Three?”

Rey rolls her eyes at him. “It’s not about that and you know it’s not.”

“So three. I think we can do better. Next time.” He says it with that smug bastard smirk, but at the end there’s a question in his eyes.

“Next time.”

After a breath, he says, “I think I’m going to shower. Would you want to . . .”

She would, and she smiles at him, takes his hand and pulls him up from the bed toward his bathroom. In the shower they wash each other quietly, touching each other carefully, almost reverently, and afterward Ben wraps Rey up in one of his giant, soft towels. She can’t stop touching him, now that she’s allowed to, and she steps in to wrap her arms around his bare torso, still hot from his exertions and the warm water of the shower.

“Can I sleep in your room?” she asks softly.

He looks down at her and chuckles. “Why, because your room is disgusting?”

She lets go of him abruptly and pinches his nipple, her face furrowed in offense. “Rude!”

She turns toward the bathroom door to walk out, but Ben has her thrown over his shoulder before she can even turn the knob.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He carries her back into his bedroom and tosses her lightly onto the bed, then clambers up over her to cage her there, his towel falling to the floor in the process.

He looks straight into her eyes now, his smile fading into earnestness, then he kisses her slowly, gently on her mouth, her forehead. “I love you even if you’re a slob, Rey,” he murmurs.

Rey pushes at his chest until he rolls over, then cages him in with her arms and legs as he’d done to her—though she’s sure he could easily toss her off. She tries to glare down at him, but she is so happy she can’t even fake it. “And I love you even when you’re a smug bastard,” she says.

Later, when they’re finally falling asleep, Ben lets Rey be his absurdly tiny big spoon. She sleeps harder than she has in a long time, her arm slung over his side, her chest warmed by the heat of his back, calmed by the steadiness of his breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I have been so honored by all your kudos and kind words about my first fic, and I hope you like this second chapter as much as the first 🥰
> 
> Moodboard gifted by SpaceWaffleHouseTM 💕:


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Ben's birthday, but he comes home with a present for Rey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> moodboard made by SpaceWaffleHouseTM for Reylo Hidden Gems 💕

It’s Ben’s birthday, and he brings home a gift box. He’s being all squirrelly about it, won’t let Rey see what’s in his hands as he sneaks into his bedroom that afternoon. She’s in the kitchen making his birthday dinner.

Later, after they eat, after Ben opens the gift Rey got for him, he runs into his room and comes back giddy with the box she’d caught a glimpse of earlier.

“Ben, it’s _your_ birthday. Why are you giving me a gift?” She takes the box from him and just sits there with it, confused. He pulls his chair over to sit right next to her.

“Trust me,” he says. “This is really a gift for me.”

She opens it and blushes; she can tell as soon as she’s got some of the paper off it’s something sexual.

Ben raises his eyebrows at her. “It’s a strap-on. See? It’s a gift for me. I get to be fucked by you. I mean, if you want to.”

Rey says, “You want to be fucked?”

He nods. “I mean, yeah, especially if it’s you, and I’ve always kind of wanted to try it. I have a butt plug I use sometimes, but I’ve never quite felt comfortable bringing it up with anyone else. And I . . . I want you to know what it’s like, too. To fuck someone. Me.”

“But what if I’m bad at it?”

Ben laughs a little at that. “You’re not supposed to be good at things you’ve never done before. We’ll figure it out. Just like we’ve figured everything else out, right? It’s not like I was born knowing how to make you orgasm five times a night.”

Smug bastard. Rey smiles despite herself. She’s a little nervous about this; it’s not something she’s ever thought about trying. But she wants to try it for Ben.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast Ben says, “Are you ready?”

Rey says, “Today? Sure, yes. Definitely.” She’s not, though, not really. She’d wanted to do some research first, but she’ll have time for that between her classes later. Rey stands up to wash her cereal bowl, and he follows her into the kitchen.

“It doesn’t have to be today, Rey. Or ever, really. I’m just asking. I’m excited, you know?”

“I know. And I’m not ready, I guess. But I will be tonight. I’m excited too.” She reaches up to kiss him, running her wet fingers over his neck, which he hates. She giggles evilly, and then screams when Ben grabs her ribs and tickles her.

“Ben, stop—stop! Please! I have to get dressed!”

“You started it, you monster!”

* * *

Ben’s sitting on the couch watching a show when Rey gets home from work that evening. He looks nervous, and pauses the show when she sits down next to him. She shifts over to straddle his lap and kisses him.

“Do you still want to do this?” she asks. “I’m ready if you are.”

“Yes,” he says, “I’m so ready.” He reaches up to stroke her cheeks, her neck, and tugs her back down to kiss him. After a minute she pulls back to look down at him, smiling.

“I love you,” she says, and when he beams up at her she leans back in to deepen the kiss. It’s not new to her, sitting in Ben’s lap like this, but more than usual she tries to be intentional about showing him her interest: she opens her mouth first, bites Ben’s lip, rolls her hips down over his. She loves his soft groans, the way his hands tighten on her hips, the way his head falls back when she bends to kiss his neck.

When she can feel his erection between them and his lips are perfectly swollen, she leans back, says, “I’m going to go change. Meet in your room?” Ben nods, and Rey kisses his forehead before she stands up.

In her room, she sits down on her bed to investigate the strap-on. The harness looks a little complicated, and she wishes she’d had a chance to practice putting it on. But she reminds herself she’s an engineer, for god’s sake; she’ll sort it out. She’d looked up some photos of people wearing these earlier, just to get an idea, and remembered that she’d bought this little lacy nightie in a sale a few months ago she’d never worn. She sifts through her underwear drawer until she finds it. Maybe the extra femininity of the lingerie would help her feel more comfortable.

She stands in front of the bathroom mirror to sort out the harness straps, blushes at the sight of herself. The nightie falls loosely just above the dildo, and the sheer cups at the top hug her tits and accentuate her nipples. She puts her hands on her hips, decides _she’d_ be happy to fuck a person who looked like this, and steps out of her room.

Ben’s laying naked on his bed, one knee raised, when Rey comes in, and his hand stills over his cock when he sees her.

“Let me look at you,” he says, and she steps up next to the bed. “ _Fuck._ ” He squeezes his cock roughly with one hand, reaching out toward the hem of her lingerie with the other. “Have you been saving this?”

“I forgot I’d bought it, honestly. It was on sale.”

Ben smiles. “Of course it was. I love it. And look at your cock, _fuck_. You look so hot. Come here.”

Rey kneels up on the bed next to him, straddles him when he tugs behind her knee. He sits up, leaning back on one hand and palming her tits with the other. His lips part when her nipples harden under his fingers, and he leans in to lick at one through the sheer fabric. When his teeth graze her tit, her cunt aches, untouched, and she whimpers softly.

Her hands tangle in his hair, and she’s pulled with him when he lays back down. As he kisses her, he squeezes her ass above the harness straps, then with one hand reaches down to stroke the dildo, groaning into her mouth as he does it.

“Fuck, I’m so ready for this,” he says. “And I know you feel so empty right now, but I promise I’m going to make you come so good after. Okay? Can you wait?”

Rey arches her back when his fingers graze into the cleft of her ass and nods. Ben rubs her face with one thumb. “Good. My good girl,” he murmurs, and looks into her eyes. “I want you to finger my ass. Will you do that for me?”

Rey nods again, sits back on her heels between his thighs. Ben reaches for a bottle of lube on his nightstand.

“Do you want me to tell you what to do?”

Rey considers. “I read some articles earlier. But tell me if you want me to do something different?” He nods, bends his knees up so that his legs cage her in. Rey spreads lube over him, starting with his cock, which is most familiar to her, then stroking over his balls, and _down_. Ben huffs out a breath when she rubs a fingertip over his little hole, and she circles it gently, watching his face.

She’s surprised at the heat inside him when she begins to press in, just to the first knuckle, and the face he makes is so delicious that she pulls out to rub outside and then press in, so slowly, again. Not wanting to draw things out too much, she slides her finger in a little farther this time, pressing up toward his cock, watching it pulse when she rubs over the hard ridge inside him. When he nods his head, she slides in another finger, and after another moment a third, until he’s relaxed and supple and his hips are rocking up toward her.

When she slips her fingers out he sits up drowsily to kiss her, tugging off her nightie and spreading lube over her cock and more over his own. She presses into him slowly, gripping his hip in one hand, and when she bottoms out he moans and covers his face with his hands.

Working out the movement turns out to be easier than she'd thought—Ben’s speechless but his open mouth and slanted brows and twitching hips tell her everything she needs to know. Once she’s thrusting into him steadily he begs her to touch his cock, _please_ , and she does her level best to multitask.

“A little faster, Rey,” he says. “You can do it. You’re doing so good.” His hands grasp at the sheets, at her thighs where they’re tucked under his, spurring her on, and she’s surprised at how turned on she is by his needy desperation.

She finds a new angle that bumps little sparks of pressure against her clit, and she chases it, making Ben croon. “Good, just like that,” he says, his fingers squeezing into her thighs. “Good girl, Rey, fuck me just like that.” She grabs his balls a little roughly, and he whimpers, and then she lets go to grasp his hips and fuck into him in earnest. He strokes himself desperately, eyes squeezed shut, and Rey feels her cunt clench and her clit throb as he comes over his chest.

She eases out of him while he catches his breath, tosses the strap-on to the floor, and straddles Ben’s hips. The rhythmic pressure on her clit had been just enough to work her up, but nowhere near _enough_. She drags her fingers through the cum on his chest and rubs them over her clit, falling to brace herself over his torso. She gathers more cum on her fingers, stretches down to hook them into her cunt while she licks up the rest.

Ben’s just coming back to himself, and with his cum smeared across her lips she looks up at him and says, “This is mine. I gave this to you.” He grasps her chin, tucks a thumb against her tongue, and she sucks hard as her fingers flash over her clit and she _finally_ comes. Before she recovers Ben’s flipping her over, his mouth on her clit, his hands holding her hips down, and with his lips and his insistent tongue and the barest tease of a knuckle at her cunt she comes again, whimpering as her cunt clenches on yet more nothingness.

And then Ben is gone, and she is alone and out of breath and still so infuriatingly empty. She’s just hooking an arm behind one knee to slide her slim fingers into her cunt when Ben steps back into the room, sucking her own faithful dildo into his mouth, and her brain shorts out. He stretches out next to her, bracing up on an elbow, and stares rapt into her face as he presses the toy into her.

Rey keens; she could weep at the thick pressure finally soothing that ache inside her. She clutches at Ben’s shoulders as he eases it in and out slowly, then reaches for him feebly as he moves down to settle between her legs.

“One more for me, Rey.” She barely hears him say it. He sucks hard at her clit, thrusting into her with the toy, until her thighs are shaking and her breath catches in her throat and if Ben wasn’t holding her hips down she probably would’ve kicked him in the face. She lays there boneless as he eases the toy out of her, and then he’s crouched over her, kissing her.

“You taste like me,” he says.

Rey smiles, eyes still closed. “Mmm. You taste like _me_.”

“How many was that?” he asks. “Three?”

“Four. I’m counting yours as mine too, since I gave it to you.”

Ben lays down next to her, his head on her chest. “Questionable math, but I’ll let you have it.” He strokes her belly softly, sucks idly at her nipple. “You did so good, fucking me. Did you like it?”

“I did like it. So much. You're very sexy when you're desperate,” Rey says, hugging his head. “Thank you for the birthday gift." She laughs. "For your birthday.”

“Of course. I can’t wait to see what you get me for _your_ birthday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was done with this fic forever, but then QueenOfCarrotFlowers posted a prompt about a sub pegging a dom, and here we are. :))

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested, I made a mixtape of the music I imagine Rey and Ben listening to in this: https://suan.fm/mix/SJYJ4oCr8. Here's the tracklist, of sorts (NB low-key spoilers herein): songs 1-3 are Rey’s pump-up songs at the beginning; 4-5 are bonus Rey-mood songs; 6-8 are what Ben plays in his car; and then the rest are back when they’re at home 😊
> 
> The title is borrowed from mixtape song #8: "Bodys," by Car Seat Headrest.
> 
> This is my first fic, so if there's something else you feel I should have tagged or CWed, please feel free to comment here or DM me on Twitter and I will update.
> 
> I’m on Twitter [@van1lla_v1lla1n](https://twitter.com/van1lla_v1lla1n), come say hi!
> 
> If you liked this, you might also like my fluffy neighbors fic [Feeding the Rat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25055572) or this smutty roommates drabble [Dead Batteries](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24902914) :))


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